


Better Than Never

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Time, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint makes a confession about his feelings, but is it already too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-Avengers.

“Do you always fidget this much in bed?”

Clint immediately stilled.

“It wasn't – I -” Coulson sighed. “You can get comfortable. I was just...” Coulson made himself stop talking. Clint had been off for the entirety of the mission and Coulson was 95% sure that his general irritability had nothing to do with him. The job had been completed, one less terrorist cell leader in the world, but their transport had fallen through so they were stuck in a one bedroom safe house for two nights.

“I'll take the sofa,” Clint said. He started to get up when Coulson put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped up like he'd been scalded by a hot iron and Coulson slowly sat up.

“Clint?” he whispered.

They'd become friends over the years, not as close as Clint and Natasha, but close enough that Clint knew more about the real Phil Coulson than almost anybody else. They'd never had to share a bed on a mission before though.

“It's not that,” Clint said, easily reading Coulson's thoughts. “Jesus, you know that's not it.”

Coulson nodded. “So what is it? You've been off all week.”

Instead of an answer Clint walked out of the room. Coulson blinked. Usually Clint's avoidance techniques were a bit more subtle than that.

Before he could make up his mind whether or not to follow though he heard the sound of the coffee machine whirring. So, no sleep tonight then.

He turned on the lamp by the bed and pushed the cushions up on both sides, settling into his side and looking up expectantly as Clint came back in, balancing a plate of cookies on top of two mugs of coffee.

“That bad?” Coulson asked.

Clint shrugged and passed over Coulson's coffee. He took a sip – as usual Clint had made it exactly the way he liked it.

Clint hesitated a moment and then settled back onto the bed, above the covers. Coulson didn't comment.

They drank in silence as Coulson started running scenarios in his head.

“I broke up with my -” Clint paused. “I broke up with this guy I was seeing.”

“I didn't know you were seeing anyone.” He did know about him and Natasha, tumbling into bed after particularly bad missions, but he didn't think that was anything serious.

Clint shrugged.

“You don't -” Coulson started and then stopped. He wasn't sure there was anyway he could say what he thought without it sounding insulting.

“I don't usually care about the people I'm fucking?” Clint asked.

Coulson made an unhappy sound in the back of his throat but didn’t try to disagree.

“Yeah, well, I didn't, not really. The sex was good. _Really_ good. But, I ruined it by calling out someone else's name and he told me he wasn't going to be anybody's substitute. Which I can hardly blame him for.”

“Natasha?” Coulson asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Was it Natasha's name?”

“Ha, no,” Clint replied, with a dark humourless laugh that Coulson didn't much care for.

“Is it anyone I know?” Coulson asked, then realised what he was saying. “I mean, you don't have to tell me. I...Clint, I'm sorry.”

Clint just drank his coffee and so Coulson did the same. He'd always been awkward when his subordinates had dropped their problems in his lap but over the years he'd thought he'd got pretty good at balancing the professional and the personal, when it came to other people at least. How Clint fit into all this he wasn't sure.

“Nat says you're up for promotion, is that true?”

Coulson frowned a little at the change in subject. “Fury's got a project he wants me to work on. More of a sideways promotion than up,” he explained. “I'll still be lead for Delta but not out in the field as much.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I thought I'd wait till I'd decided if I want to take it first.” Coulson was aiming for a jokey tone but he wasn’t sure that he quite made it.

“Right,” Clint said, dully. “And?”

“It's an interesting move,” Coulson said. “And Fury says I have first refusal.”

“You're taking it.”

It wasn't a question and Coulson realised that he hadn't really been considering saying no, despite what he'd previously told Fury. It was too good a chance to pass up.

“I suppose I am,” Coulson agreed, when he'd realised that Clint wasn't going to say anything more.

He finished off his drink, replaying their earlier conversation in his mind. Naturally Clint noticed the moment the light bulb went off above Coulson's head.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Clint said.

“No,” Coulson said. “No, don't. It's fine.”

“Fine?”

Coulson got resettled under the covers and turned off the lamp before he turned to face Clint. The room was still light enough for Coulson to at least make out Clint's face and somehow he didn't want to have this conversation in the full glare of light.

“Clint, I'm seeing somebody.”

Clint's expression remained perfectly neutral. “You haven't mentioned anyone.”

“It's still pretty new. But...I like her,” he said, apologetic and sure.

“Right.” Clint hesitated and Coulson thought he was going to head off to the couch anyway, but in the end he got into bed, curled up in a ball with his back to Coulson.

Coulson tried to keep his sigh to himself. It wasn't as if he didn't like Clint or that he didn't enjoy spending time with him, but he didn't sleep with people under his command and he'd never had a problem just thinking of those people as colleagues and assets to be protected, no matter how infeasibly attractive they were.

He drifted into an uneasy sleep, his dreams full of widening stairs that never ended, and rooms without doors.

* * * * *

“Congratulations,” Natasha said, planting a kiss against Coulson's cheek and then rubbing away the lipstick mark she'd left. Coulson smiled somewhat distractedly and tried to avoid Sitwell replacing his beer with something that had a cherry and an umbrella sitting in it.

They turned as one to the back of the bar as Clint's angry shout cut through the drunken laughter of Coulson's promotion party.

“New boyfriend?” Coulson asked.

Natasha frowned. “I don't think so.”

They moved towards Clint, who barely glanced at them. The man made an obscene gesture in Clint's face and then stormed out.

“Clint?” Coulson asked, half agent of SHIELD and half concerned friend.

“It's nothing.” At their expressions Clint rubbed a hand across his face. “One night stand went wrong.”

“Wrong?” Natasha asked.

Clint looked down at his shoes. “That was the one-night stand's fiancé.”

Natasha muttered something in Russian that made Clint hunch even more into himself and Coulson had to catch himself before he let how vulnerable Clint looked filter into his expression.

“Come on,” Coulson said. “you need a drink.”

They ended up pressed together in a booth, Natasha having requisitioned a bottle of vodka and three shot glasses.

“What about you Coulson, how's your -” Clint waved his hand in the universal signal for significant other/person you're sleeping with.

Coulson's lips twitched and he took a shot. “It's good, thank you.”

Clint took a shot. Natasha took a shot.

They all stared at each other and then started to laugh.

“It's good to see you,” Coulson said. “Both of you,” he added.

Clint and Natasha just nodded. Since the mission where Clint had (sort of) revealed his feelings, Coulson hadn't really had much time to spare for Strike Team Delta. There had been countless meetings and debriefings where Fury finally filled him in on what this secret project was all about and a rather strange meeting with Alexander Pierce which he left feeling more confused than when he went in.

“What does she do?” Natasha asked, pushing another shot into Coulson's hands.

“She's...uh,” Coulson stopped. He didn't really talk about his outside life at SHIELD, but then again this was Clint and Natasha and he was definitely on the road towards drunk.

“You don't have to tell us,” Clint said, misinterpreting Coulson's hesitation.

“No, it's...” Coulson downed his shot. “She's a librarian. At the Library of Congress.”

Coulson waited for Clint's inevitable smirk, which was slow in coming.

“Another one?” Clint finally laughed.

Natasha raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Paris,” Clint said. “Hot blonde with big,” he positioned his hands in front of him and Natasha slapped him around the back of the head. “Ow! Personality. I was going to say personality.”

Coulson smiled. There was something quite soothing about seeing these two so relaxed and open. They didn’t often let anyone see this side of them.

“And,” Clint continued, rubbing at his head, “there was that guy in Copenhagen. In that little library, I can't remember the name. He was totally hot for Coulson too. Didn't you guys go out for dinner?”

“Yes,” Coulson agreed. They'd actually skipped dinner and gone straight to sex; Coulson's cock twitched at the memory of the man pushing him over the desk in his hotel room and fucking him so hard he almost forgot the fake name he'd given him. He didn't think that Clint or Natasha needed to know that though.

“So you have a thing for librarians then, Coulson?” Natasha asked, eyes twinkling.

“More like they have a thing for me,” Coulson replied.

“He just likes them them smart, Nat, nothing wrong with that,” Clint said.

“Yes, I do,” Coulson said, looking directly at Clint, his brain-mouth filter muffled by drink. Only Nat's slightly widened eyes made him realise what he'd said and _how_. He'd definitely had too much to drink.

“I should probably get going,” Coulson said. He started sliding out of the booth.

“It's your party,” Clint replied, sounding petulant. The fact that Coulson's first thought was imagining kissing that look off his face was as sure a sign as any that he needed to leave.

“I'm sure I won't be missed,” Coulson said, which in fact was largely true. Aside from Clint and Natasha, his only real friends at the party were Maria and Jasper. Garrett and May were on a mission and Fury never came to these things. And wow, he really didn’t have many friends did he?

“Of course you will,” Natasha said. She slanted her eyes towards Clint and then back to the crowd. “I'm going to dance,” she announced, and then moved off, hips already swaying in time to the music.

Clint looked at Coulson and Coulson looked at Clint.

“We broke up,” Coulson said.

“What?”

“I didn't. We weren't. She wasn't...” _She wasn't you._

Clint picked up the bottle of vodka and slid out of the booth. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Coulson by the hand and pulling him towards the exit. Coulson didn't resist.

* * * * *

They ended up in Clint's apartment, which was marginally closer to the bar than Coulson's place. Clint poured vodka into his mouth and then kissed Coulson, pushing him up against the door before it had fully closed behind them.

This was such a bad idea. A terrible, terrible idea. But Coulson for the life of him couldn't remember why.

Clint pulled him into the bedroom and he snapped out of his daze, kissing Clint and tugging at his belt.

“This is really happening, right?” Clint asked. “We're actually doing this?”

Coulson kicked off his shoes. “I even promise to make you breakfast in the morning.”

Clint's smile sufficiently melted the rest of Coulson's nerves away. It was okay. He knew Clint. He could do this. And more to the point, he _wanted_ to do this.

“I want this too Phil,” Clint murmured against Coulson's neck. Coulson flushed; he hadn't realised he'd been talking aloud. Clint chuckled and Coulson moaned. “Don't worry, I got you.”

Clint then efficiently finished stripping Coulson and pushed him back onto the bed. He sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Just as Coulson began to squirm under the scrutiny, Clint moved forwards and began pressing kisses against Coulson's inner thigh, pressing light kisses everywhere except on Coulson's throbbing cock.

“ _Clint,”_ Coulson whined, voice coming out more desperate than he had intended. “ _Please.”_

Coulson could feel Clint smile against his leg. God, he was in so much trouble.

“Yeah, you really are,” Clint laughed. He moved up Coulson's body, nipping at his neck and then kissing him on the mouth.

Coulson heard the drawer next to the bed open and close and had to admire Clint's multitasking skills.

“I learned from the best, _Sir,”_ Clint purred. Coulson groaned. He'd never get any work done if he started getting turned on by people calling him sir.

“So did I,” Coulson grinned. Deciding that it was now or never he managed to expertly flip Clint onto his back and remove the lube and condom from his hand.

“Fuck, Coulson, you _have_ to know what you do to me.”

“I'm beginning to get the idea.”

Coulson opened the lube and Clint's eyes widened.

“I was planning on...” Clint's words died on his tongue as Coulson began coating his fingers.

“I know,” Coulson said. “Do you mind if I...?”

“Mind?” Clint looked a little dazed. “You, just...fuck, just fuck me, now.” Clint rallied quickly pulling Coulson towards him, insistent and demanding.

“Yes, sir,” Coulson replied and Clint shivered, eyes falling shut and sinking back into the bed and lifting his ass to give Coulson better access.

Coulson wasted no more time, his fingers trembling slightly as he scissored Clint open until the other man was a quivering wreck, urging Coulson to just “hurry the fuck up already,” until finally Coulson was in place and he was pushing inside of Clint and couldn't for the life of him remember why they hadn't been doing this for years.

“God, Coulson,” Clint groaned. “ _Move.”_

Coulson licked a stripe up Clint's neck. “I think you can call me Phil, you know.”

“Asshole,” Clint muttered but he was smiling and then gasping as Coulson drove in deeper. Then Clint shifted, putting all his circus training to use to get Coulson in exactly the position he wanted him.

“Of course you'd be a pushy bottom,” Coulson laughed, a little hysterically, as his thrusts lost their purposeful rhythm and his orgasm edged closer.

“No comment about my..uh, oh god, flexibility?”

“I was in Beijing. I already know how flexible you are.”

Clint grinned. That had been a very productive mission.

“And if you can manage words like flexibility,” Coulson said, “I need to try harder”.

Clint opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was a breathy moan as Coulson sent him over the edge, following shortly after with his own quiet exhalation.

Coulson slumped to the side and sank down, his left arm still laying across Clint's sweat drenched chest.

“That...” Clint said.

“Yeah.”

* * * * *

Coulson smiled as a pair of arms snaked around his waist.

“I was going to bring this to you in bed.”

“You still can.”

The arms disappeared and Coulson finished making breakfast before heading back to the bedroom. He found Clint curled up on his side, making grabby hands for the breakfast tray.

“Brat,” Coulson said, handing the tray over.

“Pancakes, juice, bacon – I had bacon?”

“I went shopping.”

“I could get used to this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Clint sounded unsure this time.

“We should probably talk.” Coulson sat down on the bed. “Or...”

“Or?”

Coulson couldn't help leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

“Or, we both agree that we shouldn’t waste any more time. _I_ shouldn't waste any more time. Let's just make it up as we go along.”

Clint had been trying hard not to smile but now he did. “I've long suspected that was your approach to most missions. All these debriefs you force on us is just a smokescreen for winging it.”

Coulson snorted. “Please, you love it when I wing it.”

“Yeah, I kinda do...Hey, that's mine!” he yelped as Coulson grabbed a piece of bacon and started pulling into it in little bits, and then feeding the rest to Clint.

“We're never going to hear the end of this from Nat, you know that right?”

Coulson sighed. “Or Maria. Or Jasper. Or May. _Especially_ May.”

“I can live with that,” Clint said.

“Me too,” Coulson replied. He picked up one of the pancakes, smiling as Clint pulled at it, breaking it in half and feeding it to Coulson.

They ate like that for the rest of the meal, them tumbled back into bed, sharing kisses until they fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

The bed creaked and Clint and Coulson jerked awake, only to find Natasha, dressed in her workout gear, staring at them.

There was a charged silence as Natasha catalogued their expressions.

“Gun range. 10 minutes. Both of you.”

Then she got up and walked out.

“She's just messing with us, right?” Clint asked.

Coulson didn’t reply, but he did get up and start to get dressed.

* * * * *

After what proved a far less scary encounter than they'd been expecting, “I'm trusting you, Coulson, not to screw this up. Because Clint will. Multiple times,” they headed out for an early dinner.

Coulson had hoped for Natasha's blessing, but hadn't expected it to be given quite so freely. He was beginning to see how badly he underestimated the impact he had on the people in his life. It was a good lesson to learn.

* * * * *

He and Clint spent that night together. And then the next. And then Clint and Natasha got called to one mission and Coulson got pulled in to plan another and it all got a bit more complicated. But it didn't matter. They wouldn't let it matter.

And if nothing else there were plenty of people waiting in the wings to steer them right if they didn’t make it work.

* * * * *

They made it work.


End file.
